Happy Fourth of July
by Epic Hero Laugh
Summary: There were once some people who believed that the world needed to be reformed. They came from many different countries, at least five from each, and in one meeting it was decided that in order for the world to be fixed, it had to be destroyed first. So they did. They burned four countries and city. Horribly depressing story, sorry.
1. Happy Fourth of July

**I just felt like writing something sad. And I don't know if I'll continue this or not. If someone wants me to I suppose I will. I could expand into the other countries mentioned. Maybe a five years later thing? I don't own Hetalia.**

**Happy Fourth of July**

It was a bright sunny day in the south of Canada as the family of five started the long drive back to their home in the US. It had been a lovely three days of majestic waterfalls, Canada Day parades, and friendly people. The maman and dad of the bilingual family were already discussing a possible trip to Toronto the following summer. Though they assured their three children that they wouldn't spend the next Fourth of July driving through Canada. The "Welcome to the United States of America" sign would show up any minute now, but just as they were nearing the border, Maman got a sense of foreboding.

"Denis," She said to her husband, her pronounced French accent worried. "Stop ze car."

He complied, pulling over. "What's wrong now Antoinette?" He asked with a thick Irish accent.

"I just have a bad feeling." She turned to glance at the three children sitting in the backseat. "You heard about Italy, Spain, and Japan. I just have a horrible feeling."

"America's trés grande Maman," Piped up the eleven-year-old girl in the very back, ignoring the little six year old boy's question of what exactly had happened. "I don't think they'd be able to get an area that large."

"I think we should wait a bit. I don't like it." Maman was acting on her instinct. Something was wrong. So they sat in the car for a little while.

The two boys, six and three years old, fell asleep quickly, heads leaning on each other.

"Look at Matthieu and Sean," The daughter giggled.

"Do you have anyzing to take a picture Finn?" Her maman asked, trying to distract herself.

The girl, Fionnula, nodded, then shook her head. "I have the old camcorder though. Here, I'll record them." She climbed into the middle of the minivan. Her father was lightly dozing but he didn't stir even when she accidentally hit the back of his chair climbing over.

She started the camcorder and put it on them for a minute, but before she could shut it off, there was a horrible sound. It was a loud ear-splitting screeching, and she jumped out of the car, ignoring her maman's demands to get back in. Finn kept the camcorder on, and the noise got louder.

It's coming from America. Finn swung the camera southward and watched, only checking the camcorder every little while to make sure it was straight. The cars on the highway were rushing to get into Canada and away from the noise.

Her maman and dad came up behind her.

"What is zat?" Her maman whispered.

"I don't know." Her dad replied.

Finn's eyes widened as the noise suddenly stopped. The ground began to rumble and the little crowd watched as, right across the border, things exploded. The trees were first. They set fire and it raced across the forest, burning all in it's path.

The small crowd watched with bated breath as the fires went out right at the Canadian border. Not a single tree on the Canadian side was even harmed. Finn ran forward for a better look and the crowd jostled her parents away from her. She ended up next to a tall teenager with wheat-blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was shaking harder than the ground. Finn was now right close to the border and the sight was horrific. It was total destruction. A field of rubble that went on for god-knows how long and stretched farther than the eye could see. A man ran to help them, but the second he stepped on American soil, he disintegrated. The crowd drew back slightly. A couple more people tried to cross, but they all disintegrated. A fire hose was pulled out, but the water merely hissed in midair and completely disappeared. All the crowd could do was watch.

The boy next to her was beginning to convulse. Finn, on instinct, grabbed his hand. He looked at her in surprise and she looked at him with bright worried green eyes. He stopped shaking as hard, but his face contorted in pain.

And then the cars all exploded at once. But not a single scrap of shrapnel hit Canadian soil. The boy clutched her hand like a lifeline before shrugging off his brown bomber jacket. He handed it to her.

"Keep it safe," He muttered. "And always try to be the hero, no matter what."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know, but I have to do something." The grass itself was now on fire and it was reflected in his eyes. "But you have to make sure the America doesn't completely fade into nonexistence. Be the American ideal. It's my birthday, think of that as your present to me."

"I-"

"Please. I can't be forgotten."

'I?' But Finn nodded. "I- I'll do my best. Happy birthday. Do you want your jacket?"

"No. You keep it. In fact," He set his red, white, and blue duffel bag on the ground at her feet. "Take this. If I survive this, I'll come and get the stuff."

The highway exploded. The air was thick with smoke but there were no screams. All the people are dead, Finn realized.

"What's your name?" Finn asked.

"I'm Alfred Freedom Jones," He gave a sad smile and coughed out some blood. "The hero," He added at the end.

"I'm Fionnula Jeanne Connolly."

"Well Fionnula. Good luck with your life. Don't follow me. Wait until later to be the hero. Be the hero once I'm gone."

"You keep speaking as though you're about to die."

"I am." He looked at her with his eyes blazing intensely.

"Good luck." Finn called as he turned around.

"I don't need luck. I need a miracle." And he turned and ran across the border. He didn't disintegrate, but his shaking became more violent and he retched, blood covering the "W" in the destroyed "Welcome to the United States of America" sign.

There were gasps, but he forged on before he fell, with a thump, onto the ground. His body then exploded into ashes, and Finn hugged the jacket tighter to herself as she something inside die. It was something much deeper than feeling sorry for a boy she had just met. He was important. Important to her and many others. She swayed slightly on her feet. Alfred's ashes floated upwards, towards the sun. Remembering her camcorder, Finn followed the dust that had just been a living, breathing person until it disappeared.

Finn opened her mouth. Something had to be done for him.

_"Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light"_

The people nearest her joined in.

_"What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?_

_Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,_

_O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?"_

Everyone in the crowd who knew the words joined in. The ones who didn't hummed along.

_"And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,_

_Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there._

_Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave_

_O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"_

There was total silence as the crowd of people, Canadians and Americans alike, watched the land of the free and the home of the brave burn to the ground.

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

Review? Complain? Cry


	2. Playing with Matches

**Some People Just Want to Watch the World Burn**

NOTE: The SPS does NOT have any nations in it. This is a group of humans, though not necessarily sane ones.

**A Little While Earlier**

The room was crowded and lit with an excess of fluorescent lights. It was far under the earth's surface and the people in it, from all different nations, sat and watched each other warily under the harsh glare from the ceiling. They were seated in groups shown with large banners on the walls dedicated to each continent.

Finally someone (from the Asia area of the room) coughed and an Englishwoman (Sitting in the Europe area of the room) opened her mouth. "The first official meeting of the SPS is called to order."

A Japanese man broke in. "SPS?"

"Sides, Points, Sides," The woman replied.

"What exactly does that mean?" Asked a Canadian. (From an Area clearly labeled "North America")

"It means we are a collective group from all sides ready to drive a point into the very heart of what needs to be done," One of the Americans answered, standing up and beginning to walk back and forth among the people. His pale, ice cold, nearly gray, blue eyes behind round glasses were lit with a maniacal light that made many others shiver, despite being on the same side. If you didn't look at his eyes, he oozed with charisma and seemed to be a very pleasant person. Then you saw the calculations behind the persona and knew that he was planning something sinister. He was clearly the leader, from his serpent's cunning to his handsome exterior.

"Many countries," He said, stopping often and in dramatic places. "In the world." Pause. "Have become." Pause. "Complacent."

"And what are we going to do about that?" A Russian asked from the group of eight sitting smack dab between the Asia and Europe areas.

"Our first goal shall be America. America needs to go." The American continued as though no one had spoken, running a hand through his graying hair.

"As in the continents or the States?"

The American shot an enraged glare at The Canadian Woman who had spoken up. His entire body practically transformed and he seemed to tower over her for a moment, despite his rather short stature. She shrunk back slightly, and the four others with her gave her small, unseen encouraging pats.

"The States. Don't worry, your precious Canada will be fine." He spat before his entire manner changed back to the seemingly pleasant man from before as though he hadn't just lost his temper. "But back on track, America needs to go."

"America is an integral part of the world's economy." A Chinese man pointed out.

"I would rather have a setback in the economy than have an entire generation full of morons! Have none of you idiots heard of YOLO?!"

"With all due respect, it's not the best idea to refer to the people on your own side as idiots." The Englishwoman calmly pointed out. There was a long pause. The American nodded in a sort of apology and The Englishwoman spoke once more. "All in favor of destroying America?"

The Canadians and Mexicans, as well as a few others, still had some doubts. So did a couple Americans, but they weren't about to go against their leader.

"I don't want my own country damaged!" The Mexican group's leader did not look pleased, and The Canadian Woman looked similar.

"Yet," The American corrected, beginning to pace again.

"No," Broke in the Englishwoman's companion, all smiles and Scottish accent. "All we need to do to send a message to the rest of the world is destroy a couple countries. Destroying America is a large and insurmountable task."

The American raised a dark eyebrow at him. "I suppose you volunteer Scotland."

The Scot was quiet before saying, "I'm simply saying that all of the US doesn't need to be destroyed. And the blast or however this is done could easily destroy Canada and Mexico as well."

The American gestured to an Italian man who straightened his own glasses. "We," He started, gesturing around the room, giving particular attention to the Japan, Russia, and America groups, "Have succeeded in developing technology that will destroy everything in a certain parameter without harming anything else. Anything that enters this area will disintegrate on contact."

"Still, all of America is rather ambitious as our first target. We should try something smaller. For practice," A German suggested.

"How wonderful, a volunteer." The American's smile spoke of his insanity. "We can go for Germany first."

...

_Prussia was having a good day. Birds were chirping overheard, the sun was shining, and there was a screeching sound filling the air. What? He stopped the car, getting out, and saw many others doing the same. A man with two children about eleven and fourteen was holding them close to himself, surveying the sky. _

_Prussia took a long sweeping glance of where he was. Just outside of Berlin. Alright then. _

_And suddenly he was on fire. He was burning from the inside out! He opened the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed and saw: ordinary sights? With a lot of worried people. Looking behind him. A prickle of dread went down his spine and he turned. _

_Fire. Death. Destruction. A tree was felled and landed right in front of the man's little girl, who looked to be eleven. She shrieked and fell backwards, catching her foot and hitting a rather large woman, which propelled her forwards. Prussia, through the fire burning his chest, took a great running leap, catching her and pulling her to safety right before she was about to hit Berlin. The stuffed bird she had with her fell out of her loose grip and hit Berlin. It exploded at impact and the girl's lip trembled. "That was the last thing I had from my mother!" She cried for a second, then immediately took control of herself. _

_"There are people dying." He heard her remind herself quietly. She pulled at one of the braids circling her head and took a deep breath._

_Another large tree fell, leaving the two of them stuck in between the trees for the moment. The father sighed in relief that his little girl was okay and Prussia nodded to him in reassurance. _

_Prussia was impressed with the little girls fortitude. But he was dying, he knew it. After sticking around for so long, he was finally dying. He'd never see West again. Or Hungary. Or Austria. Or-_

_Gilbird chirped atop his head. Well, if he was going to die, someone would need to take care of Gilbird. _

_"Hey, what's your name?" Prussia asked her. _

_"Erika Louise Starzec."_

_"I'm," He gave a hacking cough, tasting blood in his mouth. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. I gotta question for you."_

_"Yes?" Her blue eyes were filled with terror for him as she watched him shake with the ground. _

_"I need you to take care of Gilbird." Gilbird chirped and studied Erika closely. _

_"What? Why?"_

_"He needs someone to take care of him," Prussia grimaced before coughing up blood onto the ground. "I'm going to be dead soon."_

_Her face hardened. "You shouldn't just accept that."_

_His lips twitched into a grin. "I am though. Will you please take care of Gilbird?"_

_"I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best."_

_"That's all I want." Prussia studied the girl with the pale-blond hair in front of him. "Take this." He pulled off his Iron Cross and gave it to her. "I'm not going to need it. I want to make sure it's safe too. You can have all the crap in my car too if you want. I was about to toss a pie onto my friend's face. You can have it. Maybe hit your brother."_

_"I was made to annoy my brother." Erika gave a slight smile. "Thank you sir."_

_"Gilbert."_

_"Thank you Gilbert. I'll take good care of your bird." On hearing this, said bird chirped, nuzzled Prussia's face, and hopped onto Erika's head. He liked the greater quantity of hair, and burrowed into it until only his hat could be seen._

_"Spread Awesome throughout the world." Gilbert suddenly demanded. "Be awesome and make everything around you awesome."_

_"I promise."_

_And Gilbert nodded to her and jumped over the tree protecting them from the fires. Erika rushed over to see, but by the time she had hoisted herself up to see, all that remained was dust, floating up and off towards the east in a beautiful, swirling, adventurous pattern._

_And that was when she let herself cry, eyes still on the slowly dispersing dust floating among where the stars would soon be._

…

The Italian was intimidated. It was hard not to be. The American was not pleased. "I see what's happening here! You decided to help out your old Axis buddy! Well guess what?! We're all working together on this, not in teams. There's money being stolen from all of our governments for this! This is unacceptable!"

Those horrible pale eyes were staring him down and The Italian suppressed a shiver.

The Canadian Woman broke in. "Clearly it was a mistake in the program. Perhaps we should all take a look at it before we fire our next one."

"Yes, we'll need a test run. Of course I think Italy seems like a prime choice."

His charisma had already swayed many over to his side. In fact, as The Italian looked around the room the only non-Italian frown he saw came from The Irishwoman.

"Everyone with me?" The American looked at him, and The Italian found himself nodding in agreement.

…

_Lia Russi was a prancer. She enjoyed dancing and today was no exception as she bounced down the street after school to the store in her little Italian town. She passed a pair of brothers arguing on the way and grinned and waved as she passed. One waved back lazily and the other looked around confused before brightening and waving as well._

_Buying a drink, she exited the shop just as some sort of siren went off. It was coming from the air around her and she ran towards her home, scared. Just as she passed the brothers a second time, one fell to the ground. _

_Her concern for others overriding her concern for herself, she stopped next to them._

_"Are you okay?"_

_"I'll be fucking fine," The one of the ground spat out a globule of blood._

_"Brother, you aren't alright at all!" The other was hopping from foot, successfully freaking out. 'Well,' Lia thought. 'He's not going to be a help. Unless he wants to go get some.'_

_"Why don't you find someone to help your brother and I'll stay with him," Lia suggested._

_"Okay! I'll go get Germany," And the man's brother ran off._

_"Idiot," Moaned the man, who had managed to sit up but was in no condition to do anything but shake. "He'll never make it to Germany in time."_

_"What can I do?" Lia shifted her weight nervously. This man was in her care now._

_"Drink?" He whispered. He was slipping away fairly fast._

_She wordlessly helped him drink the last of her chocolate milk, and he looked up at her, his brown eyes now alert and pain-filled. "Thank you."_

_"No problem," Lia replied. There was something different about this man. Something strange. Then there was a sudden heat on her back. She turned and paled. The entire town behind her was a field of ashes. The front of her backpack was burnt off and Lia was, for the first time, fervently glad that her teachers had assigned a lot of homework._

_She checked the side street to her home before remembering that her whole family was at work. He father at the police station and her mother at the library. Thankfully they were farther north. Her cat couldn't say the same. A tear dropped form her eye. _

_"Don't take shit from anyone," The man suddenly said._

_"What?" It seemed as though the man had decided to give her some advice. A chill went down her spine. 'He knows he's going to die soon.'_

_"I'm Lovino Vargas. Now, don't take shit from any bastards and don't be afraid to swear. Actions and words are equally good, just as long as you use them right. Take this." He shoved something at her. It was a ring with a tomato on it and a pin with the Italian flag both wrapped up in an old white beret. He also toed the expensive-looking suitcase at his feet and half-nodded towards her. "That too."_

_"I'll give it to your brother."_

_"Don't give it to that moron. Just keep it. What's your name?"_

_"Lia Angeli Russi."_

_"Lia. Live your life and be strong, but don't be afraid to run away when you need to. Sometimes turning away from the assholes is the hardest thing you can do. Remember that!"_

_Lia nodded. _

_"Now help me up."_

_Lia didn't think it was very advisable, but she did. Lovino touched her gently in the same spot his large curl came out of his head, right above her ear. He then took a teetering step before finding his balance and waving to her._

_"Goodbye Lia."_

_"What?! NO!"_

_But he had already stepped forward. _

_Lia watched in horror as he stepped across some sort of invisible boundary. His head turned up towards the heavens and he said something about Rome before he turned to ashes, slowly floating upward and heading south._

_Lia let her tears fall even harder as something inside broke._

_And that's where her parents found her an hour later, sobbing over a man she'd met for less than five minutes but felt as if she'd known all her life. A star shone brightly from above as the three looked across the clearly drawn line between whole and destroyed._

…

"Well this is total bullshit!" The American was stalking up and down the aisles. He stopped between the Europe and Africa areas and took a deep breath. "We'll have to keep trying until this is perfected. You!" He suddenly turned on The Japanese Man. "We'll have to get Japan next, so people think this is simply a World War Two revenge plot at first. Not the true glory it is. Because this destruction will bring peace and hope to the world for generation upon generation. We must destroy parts of this world to save them. It will be wonderful. No one will swallow up resources, everyone will live in peace and have no reason to hate each other. Trust me, it'll be fantastic."

And they believed him. The world would be wonderful once they pruned away the unhealthy branches. It would be just as it should. Cracked, but whole because of it.

"I'm afraid the Japanese government is under that impression. We were going to install the destruction system later, but we didn't get around to it before the government completely shut down the island."

The American frowned. "Well, I was against destroying more than four nations, but what's one more? We'll pick a name out of a hat instead. While that country is being destroyed we will all work together to get the system into Japan. Plan?"

"Plan." Echoed throughout the hall. The American smiled in satisfaction. He pulled out a baseball cap emblazoned with "USA" across the front. "Just in case there was a disagreement with order," He explained. He swirled the slips of paper around and pulled one out. "Spain." He said.

…

_Gabriella Antonia Banderas chased after her little brother._

_"Portugal, Portugal!" He sang, shaking his little hips. "We are visiting Grandpa in Portugal!"_

_Gabby couldn't help but laugh. Her mother hid a laugh as the siblings waited for her to finish walking up._

_"Go on ahead to Grandpa's house, it's at the end of the road. Papa will catch up with us later."_

_"No, I wanna walk with you!" Gabby smiled at her mother. _

_"Carry me!" The two year old brother was jumping around like a jack-in-the-box and he managed to pull some of Gabby's long, dark, curly hair. "Up Gabby up!"_

_"I gotcha Miguel!" Her mother scooped up Miguel, who screamed in delight as she swung him around._

_"Tickle tickle tickle tickle!" Gabby poked him in the side, making him squirm and shake with laughter._

_"Alright, that's enough," Her mother breathed, her laughter quieting, though a few giggles escaped as they walked._

_"How far is Grandpa's house?" Gabby asked._

_"Not even a kilometer across the border."_

_"And where's the border?"_

_"We just crossed it silly," Her mother teased Gabby._

_"Oh. Then-" A shrill screeching filled the air._

_"Momma, what's that?" Miguel asked._

_"Stay close to me." _

_"Mom?"_

_There weren't many people around, but the man across the street had frozen too._

_"Mom, look!" Gabby ran forward, back towards Spain, and the man sprung into action. He grabbed her and pulled her back, but suddenly there was an odd occurrence. They were the only two standing in a large circle free of the fire that had just sprung up around the surrounding countryside. Everything in Spain was burning. Gabby watched in horror as the only life she knew burned to the ground. _

_"Papa!" She screamed._

_"Shh," The man tried to calm her down. His eyes were green, just like hers, and his voice was soothing. "Calm down little one, what's your name? I'm Antonio Carriedo."_

_"Gabriella Banderas."_

_He was coughing into his jacket, and there were now horrible dark dots on his yellow shirt._

_"Good girl. Here." He handed her a sports drawstring bag decorated with the Spanish Flag. "Take this, I won't have much use for it."_

_"Why?" Gabby asked, but she took the bag._

_"I'm not going to be here for much longer. Remember that each day is a gift. You were made to bring happiness to people, so try to be nice to everyone. Don't let them walk all over you though. Don't let anyone insult your family either."_

_"Okay, but why won't you be here for much longer."_

_"Because of this. Take good care of Senior Tortuga." And he tossed her across the line of fire to her mother, who caught her just before she would have touched the ground._

_She turned around just in time to see that the circle of fire-free area was gone and so was the man. A pile of dust flew up and swirled around before heading north. And for a moment, Gabriella could have sworn there was a smile in the clouds._

_Then she remembered. "Papa." She cried. "PAPA!"_

…

"So, many Spaniards were able to escape to Portugal, but I think we can count that as a success." The American announced. Heads around the room nodded, even the Spaniards.

The Canadian Woman felt sick to her stomach. Japan was to be destroyed next, and then America would be gone. it was selfish, she knew, but she wished her mother wasn't so stubborn and would just move to Canada. Then she wouldn't have to sit and help them press the button that would kill her. But it was needed. 'What was that line from Harry Potter?' She thought. 'Ah yes. For the Greater Good.'

The American smiled at her, an awful smile that somehow made her long to make him really smile. She smiled back at him. Then his smile softened and suddenly was the true, genuine smile she longed to see.

"Ready?" He asked her softly.

"Of course." And she pressed the button clearly labeled "JAPAN."

…

_After a trip like that, Arisu Itou hadn't been expecting to have to fight for her life. San Francisco had been very nice, and there'd been a fairly large group of Japanese relatives there. Her mother smiled at her._

_"Soon we'll be able to see home out the window."_

_Arisu looked down. Indeed, there was a large landmass approaching. Seeing the familiar shape of Japan from above, she sighed in relief. They got closer and closer and she could almost see the landing strip when a shrill shrieking filled the air. _

_The pilot came over the speaker. "That is not the plane, do not be alarmed. We are getting signals not to land, so we are going to reroute."_

_The plane began to rise again, but then the man on the plane next to her (Her parents hadn't been able to get seats together and they were sitting behind her) stood up. _

_"Arisu?" He asked quietly._

_"Yes Mr. Kiku?" He was a nice man, even sharing his nikujaga, which was the best she'd ever had. _

_"Have this." He slid a beautiful long case on her lap. "Don't open it until you are safe." He coughed and swallowed, making a face. "Now, in your life, you should strive to be a polite, hardworking person that can sense the mood well."_

_"Excuse me sir?"_

_"If you must speak, think before doing so. And be careful with your heart. And bring honor to yourself, not just your family." _

_"Yes Mr. Kiku."_

_He got up and whispered something to her mother before heading to the front of the plane._

_"Where is he going mother?" Arisu asked._

_Her mother just shook her head._

_Arisu watched out the window and saw a figure falling towards earth._

_Then Japan exploded in a burst of pure, hot fire and the figure deployed a parachute. _

_"Goodbye Mr. Kiku." She whispered._

_Her eyes filled with tears and she dried them quickly on her sleeve. She looked down and saw ashes floating up to her. They brushed against the window and she cried even harder._

_She had been so lucky that their flight had been delayed._

…

"It's time." The Italian said.

"Finally. We will rid the world of the people that don't care enough for it."

The Irishwoman had enough. "You're feckin' insane!" She pointed a finger at The American.

"Really? I'm trying to bring world peace. So far we're succeeding."

Many heads nodded in agreement.

"Ye've lost your fucking marbles ya wee fecker! You have no pride for your country! I guess Americans being proud of their country is a load of bullshit!"

"What do I have to be proud of?"

"You seem to be pretty proud of not being sane in the head! I'm going to tell the proper authorities! They'll bring you in and punish you for all you've done!"

The American laughed a cold laugh that sent shivers down everyone's spines.

"Are you finished?" He asked.

"NO! You're a dictator! A man with delusions! You have no respect for life and live simply to follow through with your own depraved delusions! You, you! You savage! You horror of horrors! You bastard son of Satan!"

"_Now_ are you done?"

"For now."

"I suggest you get it all out now." The American said. The Russian shivered, and he wasn't the only one.

"You sir, are a horrible person that deserves to burn in hell for the rest of your life! Death is too good for you! I'd love to lock ye in a torture chamber for the rest of your life and make sure that life is long and filled with more horrors than your mind could even imagine! I'm out of this horrid scheme! Ye all can go fuck yourselves or each other 'till the world burns around you, but I'm not going to be down here!"

"Finished?"

Her chest was heaving, hair loose and messy around her face, and she scowled at him. "Yes."

"Glad to hear it." And The American lifted up his gun and shot her twice in the chest.

The shots reverberated around the small chamber they all sat in.

"Anyone else have any objections?" The American asked politely.

There was dead silence.

"Very well."

Then he pressed the button marked "UNITED STATES."

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

**Soon you'll see my real plot line, promise. This is still just set-up.**

**Please review, I want to improve my writing, and that won't happen without some critiquing. It literally takes a minute. Good deed for the day**


	3. They did not feel it

**They did not feel it**

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. If anyone's reading this..

This chapter is rather filler-ish, but I'm hoping to get more in. I'm thinking this story will end up around six chapters long, with maybe a mini-epilogue. It will be sad as well. Sorry.

**...ooooOOOOoooo...**

* * *

_It was dark. It was dark and he was alone. It was dark and he was alone and he was floating. He couldn't see anything. He lifted a hand up towards his face, and to his surprise, was able to faintly make out the outline of a hand. He thudded onto a flat surface, no longer floating. He didn't care, he was still staring at his hand, wondering how he could see it when there was no light. He couldn't see anythi- Oh! Yes he could see something else. There was a pair of red eyes gleaming in the darkness not too far away. Then suddenly he could see more. The red eyes were placed in a pale face, contrasting dramatically with the dark of the room. A black shirt, no Iron Cross around his neck, ripped jeans. Prussia. But he wasn't moving. He was standing. Merely standing._

_Then a voice screamed. Was it his own?_

_And suddenly everything was gone._

_Even him._

* * *

**….ooooOOOOoooo….**

_Kiku wasn't really the type to freak out, but he felt that, for once, he had a reason too._

_"America-kun!" He shook the American. Or rather, tried too. For America was all but a statue, unmoving and frozen with his mouth half open and his eyes closed, as though he was carved from marble. His skin was cold as well, as if... NO. He's not dead. He's America, he doesn't just die._

_"America-kun!" Japan yelled. He could barely see, the darkness was swirling around him, he was choking. He grabbed onto his neck, gasping for air. Slowly his vision dimmed. His brown eyes shut, and his breathing got quieter. But it was still there. But was Japan?_

**….ooooOOOOoooo….**

**Five years later**

**Berlin, Rome, Madrid, and Washington DC have almost been rebuilt.**

**The burned countries are nowhere to be seen.**

**Are they even still here?**

**They have to be, for there are some citizens left.**

**But are there enough citizens left?**

**That's the question...**

******….ooooOOOOoooo….**

The classroom is bright. The faded khaki-colored walls are covered with "cheerful" posters with grammar rules and rules for homework, as well as two noticeably different maps of the world. Before and after pics, if you will. One shows a world with pale pastel colors filling in each border, the other with pale pastel filling in most and glaring, accusing black filling in others. The students of Mrs. Fleeter's Social Studies class are bored and can't wait to be let out of the class. It is to be expected, this is the last class of the day after all. They scuff their feet on the grey, typical-looking old carpet with faded multicolored dots, glancing up at the ticking red second hand at the clock frequently.

"Alright class, tomorrow we will be starting a unit on a very touchy topic. Anyone want to take a guess? Ahh, Arisu?"

"The Fires." The Japanese girl has a pained look on her face as she answers the question, leaning back in her seat and wishing she were anywhere but here. She hides behind her long black hair, touching the pink flower in it and making sure it stayed in place. She's answered her one question of the class. Ari doesn't like speaking to people she isn't close to.

"Correct. I'm sure many of you don't actually know much beyond the surface but-"

"I do." This comes from a blonde, German-accented girl sitting in the very back of the classroom, long slender legs casually up on the book-holder underneath the desk of the person in front of her. Her blue eyes are narrowed at the teacher from behind the silver-framed glasses perched on her nose. Erika doesn't like the teacher very much, and it shows in the disrespect in her voice and from the way she is slumped in the chair, doodling birds on the surface of the desk.

"I'm sorry but you can't just interrupt like that."

"I'm sorry as well, but Mrs. Fleeter, with all due respect I was there. I was standing right at the border when it happened. I don't think you realize how close I was to being dead. And my best friends were also there. Right there in their respective countries at the very edge of the destruction, of life and death. Have you ever even seen the ruins of America, which are just a couple hours away? Have you?" This comes from a dark-haired girl with a faint trace of something different in her own accent, a scowl highlighting her features, and her green eyes flashing. Finn, quite possibly, hates this teacher even more, who for the longest time seemed content to pretend that the Fires never happened. Now it is quite clear that she will acknowledge the event from now on, but the students are not going to pretend that the pretending never happened.

Many students roll their eyes at the impassioned speech (glancing at the stark white clock on the way down to see that there are five minutes left of school), but even more nod in agreement and smile a bit. No one really liked Mrs. Fleeter.

"I understand this is a very emotional topic, but I don't think you should use this as a way to personally attack me. I know we don't really get along, but you simply cannot speak to me like that."

"Have you seen it?" asks a Spanish-accented girl in the front, long wavy hair held up in a messy bun and her eyes questioning. "Because there's nothing there but a field of dust."

Mrs. Fleeter sighed, rubbing the top of her dyed-brown hair. "No I haven't. Now, I'm sure you'll be ecstatic to hear that I won't be starting off the unit. There's a special presentation tomorrow with some presenters from all around the world. I hope you will treat them with the utmost respect."

It wasn't a coincidence when her eyes glanced at Lia Russi for a second longer than everyone else.

…**  
**

"Bitch," Finn commented to Ari as they headed to their lockers.

Ari snorted. "You shouldn't antagonize her like that. She can only cause you problems."

"I'm so scared." The sarcasm spilled all over the floor.

"What's this?" an Italian-accented voice asked from behind. "The hero is scared?"

"One time!" Finn protested. "And I was really hyped up on energy drinks."

"You put your brother's Star Wars sheet around your neck and ran around the entire block yelling about how heroic and kick ass you were." Gabriella pointed out.

Ari stifled a giggle.

"Silence, both of you." Finn crossed her arms.

"What's going on here?" Erika slid up and "booped" Finn on the nose. "Boop! Got your nose!"

"Hey! So not cool dude!" Finn protested.

"It was awesome though." Erika replied.

Ari and Gabriella facepalmed in unison.

"Enough with the word awesome," Lia shook her head disapprovingly.

The five girls began the short walk home to the Toronto WAN units.

The lovely and peaceful looking brown brick Without A Nation exactly-alike-except-for-the-different-flags townhouses.

The new WAN branch of the Canadian government (headed by some lady that had gone on and on about how her mom had been living in America at the time of the Fire) had built complexes for all of the people who had lost their homes. They were nice, neat little buildings, but it was kind of like a slap in the face. It was a daily reminder that they technically didn't belong there, no matter what their new passports said.

Flags are hard to forget, and it had become somewhat of a habit for people to frown when they passed a "dead" one, some even making a religious symbol of some kind. People have long memories, and sometimes it's what you don't see that hurts the most. The little white star in the bottom right corner of the Canadian flag is painful to see, but it's even more painful to walk down the block and not see your cousins. Or your father, or your mother, or anyone that you hold dear in your heart. The pain goes below skin-deep. The sadness settles in the heart, clouds it until you feel like it's shrouded in cobwebs and sorrow, and thinking about tomorrow isn't clearing them away. Smiles are not as bright. Laughter isn't as loud. Speech is quieter, more subdued. It will be a long time before people forget.

If they ever truly do.

It's not every day that whole countries are wiped away.

**….ooooOOOOoooo….**

_This was nice. This was peaceful. _

_And then he was on fire. He gasped for air, willing the air to enter his lungs, praying for air to enter his lungs._

_He opened his eyes for the first time in many years._

_Green._

_Green met black._

_Then green met hazel._

_And suddenly he had trouble breathing again, but not in the sinister fashion as before._

******….ooooOOOOoooo….**

**The next day**

The auditorium was filled with unusually somber sixteen year olds.

Germany swallowed. He really didn't want to do this. But Canada had asked him as a favor and some of his own people were in the audience. Not very many, but a few. Most of the Germans in the audience were descendants, but he could feel the few who had been born in Germany.

Italy hugged him around his shoulders and Germany didn't even attempt to fend him off. A small part of him admitted that he needed comfort from something. Russia could have hugged him at that point and he would've felt better. Well, maybe.

Canada, who was going to give a little speech about America, patted him on the shoulder. Italy shuffled his own notes. Germany had helped him write them, but Italy said he had added a few things. Germany remembered the time when he would have had to check the notes for mentions of pasta and felt a pang of loss that he would never have to again. The loss of his brother had changed him. Germany could admit that the loss of his own brother had changed him as well.

The principal gave a little speech about listening to the speakers, and announced "Ludwig Beilschmidt."

A little tug in his mind alerted him to the fact that one of the Germans in the audience was listening extremely carefully and he took little bit of comfort in that.

"Mein bruder was a great man," he started off by saying, his throat going dry. "He was strong, brave, and above all else, 'awesome', as he always called himself." Germany swallowed. "My brother Gilbert was always there with a laugh and something stupid to do. He wasn't the sharpest of knifes, but he was reliable and did what was needed. He was inside Berlin the day it lit up."

Mein Gott, he hated that term, "lit up". It was considered a more polite way to say things however, and so he went along.

"Mein Bruder," he couldn't finish. "My brother."

And a little yellow bird flew out of nowhere and landed on his outstretched hand.

"PIYO"

Gilbird. Gilbird was on his arm. But was it really Gilbird or just a bird that looked like him?

"Nein!" A blond girl was running down to the stage of the auditorium, hands outstretched. Gilbird flew over to her with a "PIYO" that made a few students giggle.

"Miss Starzec! How many times have we told you to keep that bird at home?!" The principal marched over to her and crossed his arms, trying to look imposing but failing. Mainly because this girl was taller than him.

Germany met her eyes. For a second, he felt that Prussia was looking back at him, though the eyes were a pale blue instead of red.

He held his breath.

"Not as many times, it seems, to help me catch on sir."

The other students started laughing.

"Detention Miss Starzec."

"Sounds," the girl paused. "Not nearly as awesome as recommended for someone as awesome at me.

Erika blinked. She had no control over the words coming out of her mouth.

_Stop speaking! Stop speaking! Dad is going to kill me!_ She thought frantically.

"Two then, and apologize to Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Yes sir," she turned to Germany and nodded. "I'm very sorry for interrupting your speech sir."

Germany nodded and finished, his mind still on the moment he had felt Prussia in the room.

******….ooooOOOOoooo….**

**One year after that.**

**More has been rebuilt.**

**But the lost nations are still lost.**

**Maybe they'll never come back.**

******….ooooOOOOoooo….**

A bright blue eye opened and met white-streaked blue of the same color.

A puzzled look appeared on his face.

What was he even looking at?

Then the word came to him.

Sky.

He sat up, something was wrong. He didn't recognize his surroundings, but there was something inside him that wanted him to move forward. North.

His shoulders should feel heavier, and his arms were cold. There should be something around him.

A jacket.

A nice brown, _what was the word?_ leather jacket.

******….ooooOOOOoooo….**

It was the festival of remembrance. It wasn't much of a festival, but they always had wonderful, heartbreaking speeches. Lia tugged at her green shirt as she went onto the stage, a white beret on her head, a tomato ring on a chain around her neck, and an old suitcase in hand.

She gave a speech on her experience, emotion flooding through her. People came up to ask questions or just talk to her afterwards, but only one made her stop.

It was him.

Lovino Vargas.

His brown eyes were blank and held none of the anger that she remembered from before. His head was covered in a dark green hoodie and he had dark gray pants on.

"Lovino?" she asked.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that my name?"

"I met you, a long time ago. You died."

Lovino gave a harsh bark of laughter that made him sound like he had smoked three packs a day for a hundred years. "I don't remember much, but I know that I can't die. Not as long as my brother lives."

Lia was confused, but she held out the beret and the suitcase before slipping off the necklace and holding it out as well.

He stared at her. "What?"

Lia didn't know why she trusted this individual. She'd seen him die, this couldn't be Lovino. But there was something about him that she trusted. And she knew that she had to give him the stuff. It was an instinct, a long forgotten one. She was Italian first and fore

"Take them," she said.

Lovino looked at her curiously, but accepted the things.

Then he turned and walked slowly away, looking so utterly lost that Lia wished she could do something.

But she knew in her heart of hearts that there was nothing she could do.

...

Erika couldn't help but panic when she noticed that Gilbird was gone after she left him outside while going to the bathroom.

And he had taken her necklace as well.

She sat down on the steps and cried, apologizing in her mind to Gilbert Beilschmidt for not taking better care of his things.

Even if he hadn't really seemed like the type of person to take good care of his things.

...

Finn was working at the food booth her and her friends had set up. They had food from all the countries (and one city) being remembered that day. But she had left the booth to give a speech about what had happened. She had just packed away the well-worn bomber jacket away in the star spangled duffel bag when she turned around to see a blond figure that she'd had many nightmares about standing there.

"Alfred?"

"Who?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Finn stared at him for a second before she dropped the bag and circled him suspiciously. She pulled down the gray hood covering the back of his head and her eyes widened before she ran off screaming.

Alfred frowned slightly at her reaction before instinctively picking up the bag.

_So my name is Alfred. Good to know._

_..._

Ari was giving a katana demonstration to a large, cheering crowd when she saw a hooded figure watching her. He looked up and met her eyes. She sucked in a breath. It was Mr. Honda. Wasn't he dead? Maybe he had survived the fall after all.

When the crowd around her had dispersed, she kneeled in front of him and presented the sword. "Here is your katana Mr. Honda."

"My name is Mr. Honda?" he asked, taking the sword and placing it around his waist, shifting his black hoodie aside slightly.

"Kiku Honda."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Goodbye." Ari wasn't really sure what else to say. She wanted to ask him more questions. So, so, so many more questions, but something held her back. She couldn't speak, even though she wanted to.

...

Gabriella was working at her stand, waiting for Lia to finish her presentation so she could have some company when a maroon-hooded person came up and said "How much for a tomato?"

She looked at him and saw a pair of vivid green eyes staring at her.

"Antonio?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Antonio?"

That was when Senior Tortuga climbed up on the counter.

"Senior Tortuga!" Antonio yelled. "Thank you!" he said before he turned and limped away.

Gabriella just stood there and mechanically sold the rest of the tomatoes.

She had loved that turtle.

She supposed that it was all for the best anyway, though she couldn't think of a reason why.

...

Prussia was wandering around, bird on his head and cross around his neck once more, when he bumped into a figure that he felt like he knew, but he couldn't think of at the moment.

"Hello," the person said.

"Hello."

"Who are you?" the person asked, looking confused.

"Prussia." It was the only thing he could remember, besides the name of his bird. He'd only remembered the bird when he'd seen it though. He hadn't even remembered that he owned a bird until that point.

The figure blinked his green eyes and looked at him blankly, expressionlessly.

"Prussia?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Antonio," he replied, poking the turtle on his shoulder.

"Spain," Prussia said automatically.

"What?"

"I thought your name was Spain."

Antonio rolled it around on his tongue. "Spain. Spain. Spain. SPAIN! Si, my name is Spain."

Prussia didn't know why, but he smiled.

"I thought your name was Gilbert?" Spain said suddenly. "I just remembered that."

...

Lovino was staring at the tomato ring, bumping into people as he walked, but not really caring one way or another. He only cared when instead of him knocking people over, someone knocked him over. He looked blankly up to the figure above him, who extended a hand. He looked vaguely familiar.

"I don't want your help burger-bastard," Lovino said automatically to the blue eyes peering out from underneath a gray hoodie.

Alfred's eyes widened. "Do you know me then?"

Lovino shook his head slowly. "No. Do you know me?"

Alfred sighed, "No. I don't even know myself. I only learned my name because someone told me." His eyebrows furrowed. "I don't remember who though. I think it was a girl."

Lovino held out a hand. "My name is Lovino."

"Alfred."

They gave each other rather painful smiles.

"Do you know why we're here?" Alfred asked as they began walking down the street, looking curiously at the displays on either side.

Lovino shook his head. "Do you feel an odd pulling feeling?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah. I think we should turn left here."

"Mine is telling me to go right."

Alfred swallowed. "Maybe we could find each other later?"

"Meet me back here after you get to whatever's pulling you, capiche?"

"Sure."

...

Lovino took off down the right road and followed the pulling feeling. It lead him to two figures that were chatting on a picnic bench near a hot dog stand.

"Hello," Lovino said, not sure what else to say.

One of them, green-eyed and Spanish, turned to him with an exclamation of "Romano!"

Lovino smiled, "You know who I am?"

The man frowned. "No. I don't know why I said that. It just seemed like your name. Is it?"

Lovino thought about it for a minute. "I thought it was Lovino, but Romano sounds correct as well."

"I was the same," the man admitted while the other stayed quiet. "I thought my name was Antonio, but then Prussia thought my name was Spain, and I realized that it was!"

Lovino shrugged. "Romano sounds right to me as well."

...

Meanwhile, on the left road, Alfred was having a little bit of trouble finding what he was trying to find. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for, but he knew it was imperative.

Finally he came across a figure sitting at a bench with a sword of some kind on his lap.

"Hi." Alfred said.

The figure looked up and Alfred's eyes widened. "Japan," he whispered.

"My name is Kiku Honda." The brown eyes took on a befuddled look and the shorter man's head tilted slightly to the side.

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know why I said Japan anyway. Sorry about that. Mind if I sit?"

Kiku shook his head.

Alfred took the time to look at his surroundings. The day was bright and warm, city bustling just outside of the police blockade. People walked up and down, some more somber than others. Children too young to know exactly why they were there shrieked and danced and weaved around the people going about their way. A pair of blond men were a little ways down, arguing and calling each other frogs and sheep and god knows what else. A third blond man tried to calm them both down, but he was unsuccessful. Alfred studied him for a moment, tracing his nose with a finger. The man was inexplicably familiar, and Alfred's eyes narrowed in the direction of him. The other man suddenly stopped and looked around. Alfred quickly looked away, inspecting the trees behind him with a slight smile.

"I am Japan," Kiku suddenly said. "That is my name. Thank you. Do you know me from somewhere else?"

"No." Alfred shook his head. "I don't even know who I am, but this one person said I was called Alfred."

Japan studied him closely. "You don't look very much like an Alfred."

"It seems correct and yet not correct. Like it's a nickname, but I'm usually called my real name."

Japan nodded before being lost in his thoughts again. "I feel as though we have somewhere to be."

"I'll follow you."

Alfred followed Japan down the somber street, twisting and turning through the people who seemed to mostly be going the opposite way. Eventually they found a group of three sitting silently at a picnic table.

"What's your name again?" Alfred asked the vaguely familiar man sitting there.

"Romano."

Alfred nodded.

"America!" Prussia said suddenly.

"What?" Romano asked. "My name is Romano."

"No, you," Prussia pointed at Alfred. "America."

Alfred tested it out. "America." Then he shrugged. "Alright, sounds right. Where should we go?"

For they all knew instinctively that they couldn't stay there.

"South," Spain said.

And the five set off.

A street over, a group of five girls were serving a variety of food to three blond men, and all eight people felt a sudden, unescapable sense of loss.

They walked for days. They didn't stop to eat, or drink, or sleep. There was no reason to stop. They were not hungry. They were not thirsty. They were not tired. They were not anything. Their throats were filled with the dust of what used to be a country, but they did not feel it. Their shoes were coated with the ashes of children, of the elderly, of the mothers and of the fathers. But they did not feel it. They felt nothing.

One day they stopped. All at once in fact, as though it were planned. There was a large flag on a flagpole. America narrowed his eyes at it. It was a rather nice color, he supposed. Red and white stripes, fifty white stars on a blue rectangle. He glanced at it for a moment more before looking back at his companions.

"What is your name again?" He asked.

"Spain."

"Prussia."

"Romano."

"Japan."

It was a ritual. After Japan had forgotten who he was, they had taken to reminding themselves and each other.

America looked back at the flag. His eyebrows furrowed. He felt like he knew it from somewhere. He shrugged. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't important.

The five walked towards the first sign of thriving civilization they had seen. A high brick wall with a thick metal gate on the front. America squinted up and read the writing on it aloud.

"Washington DC."

**...ooooOOOOoooo...**

**It's only going to get worse from here...**


	4. A Fair Exchange

**I changed my mind, this is the last chapter. Enjoy. Or don't. You decide.**

* * *

_America looked back at the flag. His eyebrows furrowed. He felt like he knew it from somewhere. He shrugged. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't important._

_The five walked towards the first sign of thriving civilization they had seen. A high brick wall with a thick metal gate on the front. America squinted up and read the writing on it aloud._

_"Washington DC."_

**...oooOOOooo...**

"Should we go in?" Japan asked, looking at the tall, impenetrable wall.

"How?" Prussia asked.

Spain pointed soundlessly at the gate.

"It should open," Romano said thoughtfully. "Somehow it should."

Four of the five began to walk towards the gate.

"You go ahead," America said, staying exactly where he was. "I've got no feelings about this."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. If you have no opinion on this, shouldn't you just come with us?" Prussia pointed out. Gilbird chirped in agreement.

"No, you don't understand." America shook his head in frustration. "I should feel something! I should!"

The others stared at him. It was the most emotion they had seen in a long time.

"You want to stay?" Spain asked.

"I have to leave. I can't feel this emptiness. I need to feel something. Go ahead. Maybe we'll meet again."

Japan nodded. He felt like he should be sad, but he felt himself not really caring. It didn't really matter either way. Four or five, there was no difference really.

America turned and walked away. If the land had not been what it was, there would have been buildings or hills covering their view of him a while ago. But since it was flat and unchanging, they turned and left before he was even close to out of sight. The sun set.

**...oooOOOooo...**

Entering through the gate wasn't hard. They merely opened it and went in. Romano's eyebrows furrowed. it should have been harder than that... Oh well, who cared, they got in.

Japan lead the way. The buildings all looked very new, and it was extraordinarily clean for a city. There was a large grassy area, and they walked over to it, looking at the bright white marble buildings almost glowing in the darkness with a very faint air of interest.

"Last flight out, come on!" a woman called out, standing by a machine of some kind.

Prussia shrugged and went on board. He wasn't checked. Japan, Romano, and Spain followed a second later. They weren't checked either.

They were on board the machine for a long time. It wasn't a plane, it wasn't a helicopter. They weren't quite sure what it was actually. It was quite roomy either way.

When they got off, it was raining out. The grey weather matched their feelings a bit. Not gloomy, but not sunny. Nothing, and yet in between.

They passed a sign that proclaimed they were entering London and puzzled for a second as to why that name sounded familiar.

"What is your name?" Prussia asked.

"Japan."

"Romano."

"Spain."

There was a pause.

"Are we missing someone?" Prussia broke their silence.

"I don't think so. I don't remember anyone else being here." Japan said thoughtfully.

"I don't remember anything either."

"I don't. But I feel like I should."

"We all do Romano," Spain said.

"Where to now?" Japan asked.

They all shrugged in sync.

**...oooOOOooo...**

America walked. He walked and walked, not feeling anything.

Then there was wind.

It picked up and suddenly he was surrounded by himself. Cars, trees, children, schools, pets, everything that had made up America was swirling around him in a wild frenzy. This way and that, his entire self was there, just beyond reach in the forms of ashes and charcoal, formless and shapeless.

But America didn't know.

And then he did.

He stared in horror as the names of what was swirling around him came to his mind.

Ashes.

But also Mike, Sarah, Fido, Aidan, Kelsey, Siobhan, tree, Joseph, fire hydrant, house, Aileen, Aisling, towels, pool, teacup, Starbucks, phone, Daniel, Maria, Marie, Debbie, Leslie, Sinead, Natalia, Natalie, Maddie, Emma, Jane, Marylou, Michael, Matthew, Brian, Louie, Brett, Jared, cow, Katie, Kelly, Deedee...

And it went on and on for what felt like days, his mind plagued by the images of his people and his land, of which was now only dust. Everything, indistinguishable. Everything, all the same. Everything, ashes.

America sank to his knees, sobbing.

Eventually the wind calmed down and he stopped crying. He had no more tears.

Gone.

Everything.

Gone.

No.

He pulled himself into a curled sitting position, held onto his knees, and watched the sky overhead. His hair was a dark shade from the ashes, his eyes forever loosing their bright blue and replaced by the colors of what he now was.

Gray and downcast, no pride, no anything.

America was no more.

And he sat, and Alfred F. Jones never moved again.

**...oooOOOooo...**

Prussia wandered around some random city called Berlin. Or something. He hadn't really paid attention. He passed by a small shop, and he suddenly stopped.

Something was going to happen, he knew it. He could feel it.

And he hadn't felt in so long that it was like a painful stab in the chest. He held the left side of his chest, gasping.

He leaned against a wall near where construction in a manhole was happening. In a split second, everything had slipped and he was falling, falling, falling.

His last thought before his body came to rest forever was-

_Goodbye Bruder, and do not forget the awesome me._

**...oooOOOooo...**

Romano was feeling something he had not felt in a very long time.

Curiosity.

What was this thing?

It was impressive, circular, and dreadfully imposing.

He walked around it, trying to figure out what it might be. He didn't know why he cared, he just knew that it did.

Then he saw the sign:

_Rebuilding of the Colosseum!_

_The Colosseum._

_Dio. __Mio._

He stared at it.

Then shrugged. It wasn't important, and it didn't even feel familiar.

Romano turned off in another direction and walked away.

He walked for miles upon miles, coming to mountains.

He did not feel a thing.

Romano continued to walk, up and downhill, for days on end.

It didn't matter. He had nothing else to do anyway.

He knew it was cold, but he didn't feel the cold, and therefore the cold was not real to him, and he should not bother with it.

And then he felt something.

Deep inside.

And he continued to climb, a feeling of fatigue coming upon him. He was suddenly tired, and hungry, and thirsty. And cold. Unbearably cold.

He reached the top of a mountain that he suddenly remembered was called the "Corno Grande" and he screamed.

Screamed his grief, and his rage, and his whole being and who he used to be and what little was left of him to the stars.

And it was only when he finally sat down for the last time on top of his suitcase did he realize what he had screamed.

Why?

**...oooOOOooo...**

Spain wandered around Madrid. He didn't really know what to do with himself, and so he continued to wander. He got some odd looks, but he continued to wander around. He came to a grove of trees. Some looked very old, but Spain knew that they did not belong there. They were from somewhere else, and they had been brought here a couple years ago.

He blinked.

How did he know that?

A feeling of warmth was blossoming in his chest.

He hadn't felt warmth in a long time.

He reveled in the feeling, then heard voices.

Spain quickly scaled a tree and sat high in the branches.

And then all of his memories hit him full force but all he could think was _"Sorry Lovi. I failed you."_

**...oooOOOooo...**

Japan reached his own lands far after the others. He felt alone.

How strange, he hadn't even felt anything before, let alone alone.

He walked, and in the distance saw a mountain that looked important.

It felt important.

And nothing felt anything anymore, so the fact that this felt important meant that it really must be.

His memories hit him like a train when he took another step.

He stumbled and fell to the ground.

Japan looked up and saw all around him gray, desolate fields that used to be filled with people. He saw the gray sky that used to be blue. He saw what he used to be, and would never be again. He sat up.

"Goodbye Japan," he whispered, and did not move from his seated position again.

Ever again.

**...oooOOOooo...**

Over fifty years have passed.

The grass grows green in the fields on the east coast of America.

The west has, just as it once was, been left for exploration. No one has looked. They're too scared of what they might find. Will it be healed? Will it still be those awful fields of endless gray, a false ocean with no life? No one knew.

The south of Italy is mostly farmland, and as it turns out, the fires that ravaged the country have left the soil as some of the most fertile on the planet, only matched by the other burnt countries. Most of the cities are rebuilt, and one can almost pretend that it never happened.

In Germany, it really does look like nothing happened. Or it would if one hadn't seen Berlin before. Either way, from an outsider's point of view, there is nothing off about the city. It's an ordinary, constantly moving city.

In Spain, trees and other wildlife have been imported and replanted, and it almost looks the same as it used to be. The building are much newer and more modern though.

Japan is looking better than ever. Tokyo is larger than it ever was. The mountains seem even nicer than they used to be.

**...**

England, France, and Canada sat in a little café in London, stirring the drinks of their choice (tea, coffee, and hot chocolate respectively) and barely spoke a word.

England and France did not argue nearly as much as they used to. There wasn't much of a point.

Canada wasn't really ignored anymore. There was no one to overshadow him on his continent except for Mexico, and it wasn't like anyone could confuse them.

The news was playing on a television mounted high on the wall. The football game showing suddenly cut off and a news channel popped up.

"A statue of some kind has been uncovered from beneath Berlin. It somehow seems to have managed to survive the fires. Here it is now."

The three nations turned to the screen and all their breaths caught.

It was Prussia, sitting cross legged and still as a statue. He'd been found! He hadn't been killed after all!

And then they all realized that he hadn't been found.

What the men were holding used to be Prussia.

For if that was Prussia, it would have been moving, breathing, smirking, declaring himself awesome, and so many other things.

It wasn't Prussia.

It was a corpse.

**...**

Germany sat in his house with Italy, bawling his eyes out and being comforted by the Italian.

"Come on Germany. One day the wounds might be able to close completely. One day. Hopefully soon."

Germany hugged a pillow to his face and took a few shuddering breaths.

"Let's go outside," Italy suggested. "Some sun will do you good."

"Okay," Germany agreed. His face was tear-stained and he looked embarrassed, but he was too miserable to care too much.

They sat in his well-tended and meticulous garden.

A few minutes passed, and then the bushes rustled.

"Who's there?" Germany asked.

There was no response save for a loud "Kesesesese," and the words "Goodbye Bruder, and do not forget the awesome me."

There words echoed for a moment, and then Italy took Germany inside as a fresh wave of misery swept over them both.

It would be a long time before wounds would truly heal.

**...**

In Spain, a little boy wandered the streets. His black hair was short and curly, and his brown eyes swept the streets.

The little boy came to a park. There were some boys playing football.

"Can I join?" The little boy asked shyly.

"Sure," one of the other kids said. "What's your name?"

He thought for a moment. "Spain."

"Cool. You're named after a country!" another kid said.

The little boy, Spain, flashed a grin.

"He'll be a heartbreaker when he grows up," a woman commented to her friend as the two went walking by.

"Oh, absolutely."

**...**

"Attention! Another statue has been discovered in the treetops of Spain. The statue seems to have been carved into the branches of the tree, which was imported from Portugal just fifty years ago. Is there one in every country? Stay tuned to find out more!"

England dropped his cup of tea.

**...**

Over the course of the next year, four statues total were found. Nothing in America though.

That was why England, France, and Canada were flying by helicopter over the west side of the United States. Most of it was no longer gray. They had flown over the Great Plains and they looked just as they had when the continent had first been discovered. Hell, they'd even seen a buffalo.

Something in the helicopter suddenly gave a pinging noise, and the three whirled on the pilot.

"It means that the helicopter has located something unusual in the landscape below."

The three nations immediately looked down at the ground, but it didn't look as though it had changed in a long time. It wasn't like the rest of the once-country, where wildlife had appeared. It was flat, gray, and completely dead.

The helicopter landed, and England stepped out. He suddenly felt quivery. His knees knocked together.

An alarm went off in the copter. The pilot swore and checked it. "I'm going to have to leave you here for a couple hours. Don't worry, I have your location pinpointed, and you're all wearing trackers. There's an emergency back in NYC. Someone thought it'd be funny to try and set the Statue of Liberty on fire."

"It didn't work, did it?!" Canada asked in alarm.

"No, but I'm still needed. I'll be back."

The helicopter flew away and they stood there for a moment.

"Well," France said. "Where should we start looking?"

There was an oddly shaped rock a bit away, only visible because of how flat the land around them was.

"There," Canada pointed.

It wasn't long until they noticed that it was shaped awfully like a person.

That was when they took off, sprinting as fast as they could.

Dust flew as they skidded to a halt in front of...

"America," England breathed.

"He's-" Canada stopped. "What happened?"

France just shook his head.

America was sitting there peacefully, his body forever in gray stone. A light, sad smile was on his face, and he looked as though he'd almost lost hope.

But _America. _Who knew where he was?

Someone behind them sneezed.

France jumped violently and so turned around a second after England and Canada.

There was a little kid there around the age of six looking at him. A black hat was pulled low over his brownish-gray hair, which was only a slightly lighter shade than the black. His gray eyes were sparkling with a touch of mischief, and he had a large smile on his face.

"Who're you?" he asked them.

"I'm Canada." Canada responded immediately out of habit.

"And who are you?" England asked.

The small child thought for a minute. "Dunno what my name is," he said finally. "How about you dudes?"

The three older nations choked. His manner of speaking...

"England, and I'm France," France managed to respond.

"Coolio my bros!" he announced with a large grin and a thumbs up.

Was this the new America?

"Hey, come over here," England said.

"Haha! Catch me if you ca-an~" The child took off, dashing over the hard ground. As they ran after him, France suddenly stopped.

"Look at the ground where he's been running," France pointed.

As the small child ran, where his feet touched, the land was healing slightly, turning to dirt instead of ash.

The kid, who they were almost sure was a new personification, ran in circles around them for a long time, much longer than the average person or nations should be able too. When he finally sat down next to Canada, France made to ask a question.

"Shhhhh!" the child shushed him intensely. "Wait for it~."

A minute passed.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Shhhhh!"  
Another two minutes passed. The kid was growing more excited by the second.

"Wha-"

"Shut up Canada!" the kid said angrily. The nations drew back, shocked. The kid wouldn't face them, and was looking with perfect attention straight ahead.

They waited for hours, until it was sunset. Every time the nations would try to speak, the kid would freak out, so they remained silent. The kid was so excited by the time it was dark that he was quivering.

Then it happened.

The ground began to sprout wild grasses. The air began to hum, and the earth exploded with life. They were suddenly in the middle of a beautiful wheat field. There was a faint echo of music, and dragonflies soared around the tips of the grasses, which were growing by the second. The darkening sky above them was filled with glowing insects, and beyond that, some of the brightest stars they had ever seen. The grass felt soft against them, and it seemed to almost glow with the amount of pure energy surrounding them. The kid was laughing and jumping. A tree sprouted up nearby, growing so thick and tall that it looked as though it had been there since the beginning of the land. The ground shifted beneath them, making room for the roots. The air smelled sweet, like wildflowers, and a cool breeze drifted by, stirring the grasses into a rippling pattern matched only by the ocean. As the branches of the tree swayed, birds flew out, black against the orange, pink, and blue swirled sky. The land was renewing itself, and it was doing a marvelous job.

"Wow." Was all Canada could say, but it summed it up. The whole earth was vibrating beneath them, and they were surrounded by nature on all sides. A river appeared, flowing to their right, and they got the sense that they had just witnessed something more important than wonder. Fish jumped in the new river, and the ground on either side became slightly muddy as the drops of water flew in the air, reflecting the glow from the fireflies above them.

The kid was grinning. "What do you think? Like it?"

The three countries nodded, their eyes open in amazement.

"And all it had to do was burn first." The kid gave a soft, creepy smile and tilted his head to the side, looking at them with an odd glowing fire in his eyes. "A fair exchange, don't you think?"

The three countries nodded, their expressions unchanging.

* * *

**Whelp, I'm finally done with that depressing story. I'm kinda glad honestly. There's only so much I can write when it's creepy like that. I originally meant to give it a happy ending, but BORING.**

**Review? Let me know how much I've traumatized you? :D Complain I didn't depress you enough? Be my guest!**


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